


Walking In

by flinchflower, nubianamy



Series: Donutverse 50 Kinky Ways [13]
Category: Glee
Genre: Discipline, Dom/sub, Flogging, M/M, Master/Slave, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>50 Kinky Ways, prompt #46 (author's choice): Five times Davis walks in on Carl and freaks out, and one time he doesn't.  Carl/Davis backstory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking In

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to flinchflower for cowriting. Thanks also to all my readers for putting up with my recent explosion of OC stories. I am working on an AU Puckurt, to be finished next week? 
> 
> This story was brought to you by the song "Are You Happy Now?" by Richard Shindell. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ivu5fLWBpc
> 
> Warnings for Dom/sub, discipline, flogging, mentions of bloodplay and slave training. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -amy

 

50 KW Prompt #46. Walking In: Five times Davis walks in on Carl and freaks out, and one time he doesn't.

April 1994

Davis looked at the space on the landing where the console table had been that morning. The square patch on the floor was a slightly different color, outlined by dust and sun. He traced it with his toe and sighed.

"She took the microwave," Carl yelled, his voice muffled. Whether by fury or tears, Davis couldn't tell. "The fucking  _microwave._  I mean, god, doesn't her sister already  _have_  a microwave?"

"Yeah," Davis said. He settled heavily on the top step next to the landing. "It's not about the stuff, Carl."

"Well, it's not like I cheated on her or something!" Carl appeared around the corner, his face purple and fists clenching, and stared up at him. "The bitch took my favorite leather jacket. She took the  _garage door remote._  What the fuck is she going to do with  _that?"_

"You took away this year's summer theater. She's going to have to do at least a year's worth of pilates classes to get her figure back." Davis hoped he didn't sound too bitter. "Trust me, I understand. Bebe hated being pregnant just as much the first time. She'll get over it, but..."

"Yeah." Carl's shoulders slumped and he leaned against the wall, hand pressed to his forehead. "Yeah, I got it. And she doesn't love me anywhere near the way she loves you. I'm thinking she's done with me."

Davis nodded and gazed at the floor. "Maybe me, too," he said quietly.

Carl shot Davis a startled glance. "What - you think so? God, man..." He ran his hand over his face, groaning. "This  _sucks."_

 _You're telling me,_  Davis wanted to say, but he decided it was already bad enough, so he just sat there. Carl climbed the steps one at a time, and sank to the step next to Davis.

"And here I am, your wife's lover, and you're stuck living with me until our lease runs out." His glance was apologetic this time. "I'm really sorry, man. I could get a sublet if you don't want to deal with me -"

"No. No, it's okay." Davis didn't even want to think about that. Sure, Carl might be a little bit of a neat freak, and maybe he left his shoes under the kitchen table, but he was a responsible roommate. He smiled sadly at him. "This isn't your fault. You guys didn't plan for the condom to break. Bebe'll figure it out. She'll be back after the baby's born, or... she won't."

Carl's anger was gone now. He just looked broken. "Yeah."

Davis tried a bright smile. "Come on. The semester is over. There's no reason why we shouldn't try to enjoy this summer. We're two single guys, with this big house, and nobody to tell us what to do. We can have all the parties we want. It'll be fun."

Carl's return smile was a little more bitter, but it  _was_  a smile. "You're serious?"

"Okay, yeah, it sucks, but can't we make the best of it?" There were so many other things he wished he had the courage to say.  _I'm really sorry my wife left you_  was at the top of the list. But how do you say that?  _You're a nice guy, even if you got my wife pregnant_  was a close second.

"All right," said Carl. He sighed again, straightened his shoulders, and nodded decisively. "I'm not going to let this get to me. I was fine without her, and I'll be fine without her again, no matter what she decides. And I'm buying a new fucking microwave tomorrow."

"That's the spirit," Davis said, patting his back consolingly. "Now, those guys you met at your wine club? Hiram Goldstein and Leroy whatshisface? You said they wanted to get together and play poker. Why don't you invite them over?"

"Sure." Carl was brightening already. "That'd be fun. Hey, thanks, Davis." He put an arm around Davis' shoulder and gave him a quick hug. "You're a real friend, you know that?"

* * *

First Time: Mark, May 1994

Davis had forgotten what it felt like to have his own room. He and Bebe got married back in junior year of high school, and since then, they'd shared a bedroom. When he and Carl and Bebe rented a house together earlier that year, he spent more nights than not alone in his bed, but it wasn't the same as having his own space. Now, all of his drawers were filled with his own clothes, in whatever heck way he decided to arrange them. He didn't have anybody sniping at him about hanging his stinky, sweaty workout gear on the shower curtain in the bathroom. And he could stay up as late as he wanted to.

 _Okay, maybe it would be better if you were having sex with somebody._  He squirmed a little, adjusting his irritating erection. Since he and Bebe had begun having sex when they were fifteen, he'd been the lucky one. None of his other friends got to have regular sex as teenagers. He'd felt pretty awesome about that. But since baby Jesse had been born, there hadn't been all that much sex - and then Bebe had met Carl, and she'd been pretty focused on him after that. Now his wife was gone, and he was no different from every other ordinary nineteen year old. Which was to say, horny most of the time.

He heard the door open and close downstairs. That would be Carl, returning from his  _Hello Dolly_  pit rehearsal. Now whatever thoughts he'd had about taking care of that erection were stricken from his brain. There was something... uncomfortable about the idea of doing  _that_  in the house while Carl was there. Not that Carl and Bebe hadn't done plenty of  _that_  themselves, but... it wasn't the same.

Davis hopped up from his bed and pulled on a pair of pajama pants, trotting down the stairs to the kitchen to say hello to Carl, but he'd already retreated to his own bedroom. There was a half-full bottle of wine on the counter, and Carl's sweater was there on the back of the chair. Davis picked it up and hung it in the closet. He returned up the staircase and knocked on Carl's door, twice.

"Hey, Carl?" he said, opening the door. "I - oh."

Carl wasn't alone. This was the first surprise, although Davis thought he might have expected it. After all, Carl was a guy, and he had needs, just as Davis did. And his own girlfriend, Davis' wife, had left them both high and dry. So, of course, Carl was single, and he could have anybody over he wanted.

But Davis hadn't imagined him bringing home a  _guy._  And he  _definitely_ hadn't imagined Carl and said guy, nearly naked on Carl's bed, lips and hands and - holy shit - other things rubbing against one another.

"I - think I should go," he said in a strangled squeak, and closed the door before Carl could say one word.

The closed door didn't block the image from his mind, though, not even when he retreated to the living room to stare mindlessly at the television. Davis tried to ignore the sound of feet hurrying across the wooden floorboards, the front door opening and closing again. Then Carl was there, sitting beside him on the couch, thankfully fully clothed this time.

"I'm sorry about that," Carl apologized. "I guess I should have said something before bringing a guy home. It didn't occur to me that you would come in." He shrugged sheepishly. "He's - well, I figured he'd be gone before you woke up tomorrow, anyway. I doubt I'll be seeing him again."

"He's in my econ class," Davis said faintly. Carl gave a choked little cough.

"Uh..." Carl cast around for something to focus on, then took the NES controller in one hand. "Heh. Wanna play some Zelda?"

"Carl..." Davis shot him a desperate glance. "You're telling me you're... you like guys? And what, you've liked them all along, and you just... failed to mention this fact to me? Does Bebe know?"

"Of course she knows." Carl looked positively offended. "I wouldn't keep that from her. I just didn't think it mattered all that much. So what, I like guys? I'm still the same."

Davis leaned back on the couch, accepting the outstretched controller from Carl's hand. Of course Carl was right. It wasn't a big deal, was it? He didn't have any reason to be so worked up about this. It wasn't like he was a big homophobe or something. He was friends with Leroy and Hiram, after all, and they were dating one another.

"You're right," he said finally. "It's fine."

Carl nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. "Good. And... I guess, if you have any questions or anything -"

"No," Davis said quickly. "No. We're fine. Really."

They played for a little while before Davis looked at him again. "I'm sorry for barging into your room like that. You can have anybody over you want. Even Mark."

"Okay." Carl grinned at him. "Mark, huh? That's his name?"

"Jesus Christ, Carl," Davis protested, and Carl hit his knee, laughing.

"I'm just kidding. Hey, how about I call Hiram and Leroy to come over and we tell them this story? I bet they'd get a kick out of it."

"Sure." Davis tossed the phone at Carl. "You get to do the describing. I don't think I want to think too hard about what I saw in there."

But he was wrong, as it happened. His brain apparently wanted to think about it  _very_  carefully, in exquisite, breath-stealing detail, throughout most of the rest of the evening, and later in his dreams.

* * *

Second Time: Mark Two, June 1994

Davis dropped his exercise bag in the hallway and stripped his shirt off as he went, tossing it on the floor of the hallway. "Dibs on the shower," he called to Carl, walking by his closed bedroom door. He thought he heard some kind of affirmative as he went, but it was hard to tell with Carl. He was usually pretty focused on his studies - dental school wasn't exactly like medical school, Davis thought, but it looked like there was a lot of homework.

Once he'd scoured away the sweat from the volleyball game, Davis felt much better. He wrapped up in his biggest towel and headed back to his own bedroom.

But then he heard a noise from Carl's room that startled him. It wasn't a happy noise, which would have embarrassed him, but he was accustomed enough by now to hear them that he didn't freak out about them. Sometimes there was a girl in there, and sometimes it was a guy, and Davis just blushed and averted his eyes when they came out and tried to engage him in conversation.

No, this wasn't a good sort of noise. It sounded - well, it sounded like Carl had dropped something heavy, and was in trouble. He leaned in to listen, and it happened again - a kind of slapping, and a cry of pain.

"Carl?" Davis didn't even think; he just turned the knob and burst through the door. "I heard you..."

It hadn't been Carl he'd heard. Well, not directly. It was something Carl was holding - or possibly  _wielding_  was the proper term - that had landed on someone's bare flesh that had made the smacking sound. It was... leather. And it wasn't exactly a belt, it was too wide - and too short, just a single strap- Davis swallowed hard.

And the flesh upon which it had landed - it was they who had made the noises. Yes,  _they,_  meaning two of them, two  _guys,_  both with no pants on, kneeling on Carl's wooden floor. Their bare asses were in the air, both reddened and striped with lines from the strap. As he stood there, it whistled down one last time to land on -

"Mark!?" he gasped, and heard an echoing gasp from the hidden face of one of the boys. Carl sighed, stepping into Davis' line of sight. He spoke calmly and directly.

"Davis... you should go back to your room now. I'm going to finish up here, and then I'll come find you. Take a drink of water and something for a headache and lie down. I'll be right there. Do you understand?"

"Okay, yeah," he mumbled, backing out of the room. Carl gave him a little smile, closing the door carefully but firmly in his face, and he was left standing in the hallway, wondering what the  _hell_  it was he'd just seen.

Hiram called up the staircase, "We're here with the pizza. Should I come up?"

"Uh... Carl's a little busy right now. Kind of uh, having a party..." What was it Carl had said earlier? Something about cocktails...

But he couldn't think about that now. He followed Carl's directions, which seemed perfectly rational and logical, and ten minutes later he was stretched out on his own bed, shaking a little.

Then he felt Carl's hand on his shoulder. "Hey," he murmured. "Can you sit up a minute? Come here. I just want to hear what you think you saw. Can you tell me about that?"

"I - you were hitting those guys. With a belt. Did they - was it, like, a hazing ritual or something?" He couldn't look at him. "It wasn't, was it."

"No." He felt Carl's hand, strong and comforting on his neck. "But it was consensual. They asked me for that, and I gave it to them. Everybody was doing what they wanted."

Now Davis  _had_  to look at him. "You wanted to do that?" he said in desperation.

"Davis... I do that. For men, for women. People need physical limits, stimulation, discipline. I give them the control when they can't do it for themselves." He sought for understanding in Davis' eyes. "I thought Bebe had explained this to you. You saw my business card?"

Davis nodded slowly. "Yeah, but... I guess I didn't really  _get it."_ He shifted, trying to accommodate the images on his retina. "It's not sex, exactly?"

"No. It can be sexual, but what I offer, it's not sex."

"But those guys, they were... they liked it. That way." Davis was mortified to recall being absolutely sure about  _that._  "And they'd had... things... inside them?"

"I can tell you all about butt plugs later. Right now, you need to try to relax." Carl put a hand on Davis' chest and directed him back down to the mattress, his head on the pillow. He stroked Davis' hair several times before covering him up with the sheet and blanket. "Don't worry about this. It's fine."

And it was, just like that. Davis could feel his eyes closing, his breathing evening out. No matter how unusual or confusing this was, Davis knew in his heart that Carl wouldn't do something that was  _wrong._  He drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Carl waited until Davis was absolutely asleep before returning to the young men cuffed in his bedroom. They'd been commanded to wait in that position, and though he wouldn't have chosen to interrupt their discipline at just that moment, it wasn't going to hurt them any to have to be a little extra patient.

"You've been very good," he praised them, touching them each on the head before picking up the wooden paddle. "I think you deserve a reward."

By the time Carl finished with them, the boys were sated and well-spanked and comfortably resting tucked into his bed. He came downstairs to get some water, and was startled to find Hiram and Leroy on the couch eating pizza.

"Hey," he said, stretching his neck. "God, I really need to stop doing this at my house. It seems so unprofessional. Plus I always end up sleeping on the sofa when they bliss out and can't drive home."

"Is Davis okay?" Hiram looked concerned. "He sounded freaked out to see those boys in your room. Didn't he realize you had clients?"

"I, um, may have neglected to explain exactly what I do," he said. "Maybe. But he knows now."

Leroy stared at him. "He sure as hell does," he said slowly. "Do I need to call Tess?"

"I'll talk to her tomorrow," Carl assured Leroy hastily. "And next time, I'll be sure to be very, very clear about just what a  _cocktail party_  entails."

* * *

Third Time: Toys, July 1994

Having a roommate wasn't a bad thing, but sometimes sharing a house with someone you weren't sleeping with felt a little crowded. Tonight, Carl knew that Davis was attending an all-night cram session for chemistry, and he felt practically gleeful at the opportunity for privacy.

He hummed to himself as he prepared the toys he wanted. There were a few that he wasn't sure of, but knew he wouldn't want to go searching for any of them or cleaning them once he got started. He carefully laid out a series of plugs, and a couple different oils, one warming, one cooling, and put out the box of baby wipes. He spent some time lovingly working neatsfoot oil into his body harness, and his wrist and ankle cuffs and a simple collar as well.

The leather tie downs on the bed were easy enough to hide on an everyday basis between the mattress and box spring, and Carl pulled them out now, carefully inspecting them. He checked that they didn't need conditioning, ensuring that the trigger snaps were oiled and moved freely and easily. He replaced the rope in the front end of the tiedown rig - one that allowed him to pull his own wrist up to the restraint - but which would also let him move a hand away, just in case. There was really nothing more embarrassing than getting stuck in a self-bondage situation, he thought, snorting, thinking of Tess' laughter that one time she'd discovered him.

 _Which reminds me..._  He selected a series of floggers from a drawer, splaying them out so that they would be within easy reach, and then he picked up the telephone extension, dialing the familiar number.

"Tess?"

"Hi, sweetheart. Still have plans for some fun tonight?"

"Yes ma'am. I was about to, well, begin. I'll check in with you before two AM?"

"That's fine, Jesse. Thank you for being safe, have fun and I'll talk to you in a few hours."

The call disconnected, and Carl dimmed the lights in the room, stretching luxuriously out among his tools. He carefully arranged the pillows, then as he knelt before the stack, he reached back behind himself, and fastened each ankle to a corner of the bed, reaching down and tightening the leather down so that his legs were spread lasciviously. He took a deep breath, feeling the body harness tight against himself, and reached back, caressing his own buttocks, watching his cock twitch with anticipation. He fastened his left wrist next, to the upper left corner of the bed, ensuring that the rope tied to the right hand snap hook was secure in his left hand. And then he laid himself down. It was a nearly perfect four point restraint.

Carl needed a hand free for the flogger - and the anal plugs as well. His back was pleasantly warm as he drizzled the warming lube along his own backside, and began to work a medium plug in. He thrust hard into the stack of pillows, moaning, working himself to the point of orgasm. Then he switched to a more severe flogger, which woke a sensation of dark stinging and depth along his back muscles as he flogged himself. Carl dragged the falls along his cock, between his spread legs, even as he reached back to trade the plug for a bigger size.

He was moaning, thinking he wasn't going to last very long now, as he switched plugs and floggers around. He clipped the leather leash to his collar, holding the lead in his right hand. One pull on the rope in his left hand had his right cinched up near the headboard, and he strained against the five leather tiedowns, listening to the hardware on his cuffs and collar jingle. His body was shaking with the need for orgasm.

Carl sank blissfully into the pillows, beginning to thrust, trying to will himself to hold back from orgasm, working his cock, feeling the muscles on his back stand out as he strained. There was no way he would have noticed the door open.

* * *

Davis stared a moment, taking in the spectacle in shock, and then trailed back out to the living room, swallowing. He took shelter in responsibility, sitting down and opening his chemistry book, but all he could see against the pages was the outline of Carls muscular body, hard cock jutting out, and the marks of the flogger on the man's back... He shook himself. Not what he needed to be thinking about.

He'd just managed to settle himself down into the routine, paying attention to his chemistry book and pointedly  _not_  thinking about what was going on in the back bedroom, when there was a knock at the front door. He looked up, startled, but rose to open it.

Hiram and Leroy were standing hand in hand, grinning like idiots. Leroy reached out and placed a bottle of champagne into Davis' startled hands. "Put this on ice, my boy. You know how Carl likes his bubbly cold."

"Don't harass the poor fellow," Hiram scolded. "Can we come in? It's still over eighty degrees out here. Far too warm to celebrate on the porch."

Davis blinked. "What's going on?"

"We're engaged," they cried in unison.

* * *

Fourth Time: Training, July 1994

He didn't know if it was the state of the pavement or the protein shake he'd had for breakfast, but Davis had made his weekend bike route in record time. "Shaved almost twenty minutes off my time," he marveled, looking at his watch as he climbed the front porch. The door was locked, but he didn't even think about knocking; he just reached under the mat and grabbed the spare key.

He wished he  _had_  knocked, although knowing Carl, he might not have even cared. It was such a bizarre sight, it took him a few moments to slow his stride and pause in the hallway, retracing his steps to get a better look. Then he stopped - and stared.

Carl was kicked back on the recliner in the living room, reading the newspaper. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, and as he turned the page, he set his coffee down on the end table next to the recliner.

Only they didn't own an end table. Certainly not one shaped like an attractive naked man, kneeling with the tray held over his head, painted in realistic skin tones - wait, was that table  _breathing?_

As he folded his newspaper, Carl caught sight of Davis standing there. He paused, looking more apologetic than startled.

"Davis," he said softly, "would you get me some cream for my coffee, please?

Davis had the cream in his hand and was closing the door of the refrigerator before he really thought about what he was doing. By the time he was back in the living room, he'd resumed breathing as normal and he was even able to meet Carl's eyes.

"Want a donut?" Carl offered, gesturing at the table. "They're sour cream cake."

Davis exchanged the cream for a donut, sitting weakly back against the couch. He flickered a glance at the table again, impressed despite himself by the complete lack of movement. Then he looked a little closer. "Mark?" he whispered. The table didn't move.

"It's not permitted to retain that identity at the moment," Carl murmured. "It is simply here to serve, as all objects are."

Davis felt a strange, cold sensation cascade down his back, making all the hair stand up on end and the base of his spine tingle. "Oh."

The screen door opened, and Leroy entered. He paused as he saw Davis sitting there on the couch. "You're home early," he said mildly. "Carl?"

"Davis, I'm happy to answer any questions you have in a few moments. Until then, you're welcome to stay, but I'm going to need you to refrain from addressing... the furniture. If you don't mind."

"Uh... sure." He was having a little trouble breathing, actually, and even more trouble keeping his eyes off of Mark's - off  _the table's_  - legs, crossed neatly at the ankles, or the tiny twitch in the broad muscles of his -  _its -_  shoulders.

"Leroy, come over and inspect my handiwork." He sat up and gestured for Leroy to take his place in the recliner. "I think you'll find it's up to par."

"Thank you, Carl." Leroy approached the table, smoothing a hand over its back, along the curve of its tricep. "It looks very well conditioned."

"It's been working out," Carl agreed. "I have it on a strict high protein diet."

Davis opened his mouth to comment on the protein shake he'd had this morning, and then closed it again as he realized who that shake had probably been made for.

Leroy sat down in the recliner, taking a donut and a cup of coffee. The table didn't waver. "Clean lines," he mused, "and good form. Does it appreciate a good spanking?"

Davis choked on his donut, but he noticed the table's eyes didn't even look up from the floor. He thought its face might be a little pink, though.

"It benefits from regular discipline," said Carl. "And I believe it would be amenable to close contact, should you desire that."

"Perhaps," Leroy said. He placed his hand on the table's calf. "Hiram and I are monogamous, you know, but it's nice to have a pet to snuggle with when the weather gets cold."

"That would be up to you to negotiate in your contract, of course. What do you think?"

Leroy smiled. "I think we might have a deal. I'll run it by Hiram. Let me have a day to think about it."

"If you're not interested, Harrison might be," Carl said, standing and shaking Leroy's hand, "so you may not want to take too much longer than that. We on for poker later?"

"Absolutely. We'll bring the wine." The older man gave Davis a friendly wave, then headed for the door.

Carl carefully lifted the tray off the table, setting it to the side. Then he took the table by the elbow, giving it a gentle lift. There was a deep breath, and the table straightened its neck. Carl put his hand on its neck, massaging it.

"Go to my room and lie down under the blanket," he said, patting the table on its ass. It went silently and obediently, its face definitely scarlet now. Carl turned to face Davis, looking thoughtful. "You went along with my lead. Thank you. I hope that wasn't too upsetting."

"No," Davis said honestly. "He didn't seem upset. I think he - he really wanted to do well, though, and I feel bad for... uh, distracting him."

"He wasn't distracted," Carl assured him. "That was one of the first things he learned to do: to shed his identity, to fall into a kind of trance state, where extraneous input won't keep him from his focus. His only motivation becomes to serve." He put a hand on Davis's arm. "I meant I hope that wasn't too upsetting for  _you."_

Davis wasn't sure how to answer that, so he shrugged. "I'll be all right. It was just a surprise, to see Mark like... that."

"It's what he wants," Carl said. "He asked for the training. He's my first."

"Your first...?"

"First slave."

The word made him flinch a little, but he tried to keep in mind Mark's willing posture, his strong back, the way he acquiesced to Carl's orders. And - his arousal? "He, uh, likes this?"

"Not the way you think." Carl's eyes twinkled. "He seldom gets turned on when he's serving, but... Mark's not accustomed to having you here. I think he has a crush on you."

Davis had absolutely no response for this, and he just stared at Carl until he grinned and waved him away. "I'd better go take care of him. He's in great physical shape, but holding a position like that would take a toll on anybody. Everything okay with your bike ride today? You got done early."

"Yeah," Davis said faintly. "It was... unexpected."

* * *

Fifth Time: Demo, August 1994

"Why  _can't_  I come?" Davis asked for the fourth time. Carl sighed.

"It's not your kind of club," he said. "You won't understand, and I won't have time to explain it to you."

Davis frowned at Carl. "But I  _want_ to understand," he objected. "And you said that asking questions and seeing you work would be the best way to do that. Not to mention I love dancing. I'm  _going_."

Carl reminded himself that Davis wasn't actually his to discipline. "I'm not so sure you can handle it," he said shortly. "For one thing, if you argue with me like that in the club? Not cool."

"I won't," Davis said. "I promise."

He sighed again. "Let's go pick out something for you to wear, then. There's a dress code." He caught Davis by the arm. "But... really, you need to agree, you won't wander off without me, and you're not going to backtalk me - or Leroy, for that matter."

"I promise," Davis said again, missing the frown on Carl's face as he flung open his closet door.

* * *

The throb and beat of the music in the background was awesome, and he'd never seen so much leather all in one place before in his life - or so much skin. Carl and Leroy both nodded and shook hands on the way into what looked like a big dining hall, with a stage at the end of it. Davis smiled to see the social butterflies emerge for the evening. He relaxed when Carl seated them at a table, and a waiter was by within minutes to hand the glasses of water around.

"All right. I'm up in twenty, I need to go greet the host, and make certain nothing's changed." He casually drew what looked like a coiled rope from his bag, and Davis watched curiously as he went off.

His eyes widened twenty minutes later as Carl returned, his black leather pants reflecting the stage lights, white shirt shimmering. And he was cracking a whip. And aiming  _at_  someone. Or rather, he noticed, at someone's heels - the girl danced ahead of him, squealing, as he herded her with the whip.

"Wow," he murmured without thinking, eyes fixed on the stage. He was practically transfixed as Carl began speaking casually about techniques, flicking the whip with deadly accuracy at various targets. He took questions from the audience, who seemed attentive and respectful of his knowledge.  _This is my roommate?_

Suddenly he realized the talk was over, the room applauding. When Davis looked around, Hiram and Leroy were nowhere to be seen. He grumbled a little to himself, shifting in his seat.

And then he got up and strolled out to the bathroom. He was a grown man, for God's sake, he could go and pee if he needed to. He washed up, gazing at himself in the mirror, button down shirt and indigo jeans appropriate enough, but the puzzled, contrary look he saw on his own face made him frown more. Davis sighed, then made his way back to the room where they'd been seated - only stop in the doorway, transfixed.

There, on the stage, was a great big frame, with a tiny little woman shackled to it. Carl was standing behind her - and as his arm moved and the whip cracked, she squealed, and there was applause.

"You must be in complete control of yourself, to use a signal whip or snake whip," said Carl. "You need to be aware of your surroundings at all times, and provide adequate clearance from any onlookers or participants. And - you need to know your target's limits." The whip cracked again, and suddenly there was a six-inch stripe on the woman's back. She cried out again. Carl's seemingly casual gesture laid down three parallel lines, not more than two inches apart. "It can just make a lot of noise - or it can be a brutal weapon. There's no room for error."

Davis stumbled back, colliding with the door, and fled back to the bathroom. He ducked inside an empty stall, locking himself in, and leaned against the cold metal, hearing the cracking of the whip in time to the racing of his heart.

 _They're going to worry about me,_  he realized after a long moment, and unlocked the stall door. He was washing his hands in the sink when he felt a heavy, warm grip on his shoulder and looked up, hoping to see Carl in the mirror.

Instead, Leroy was behind him, frowning ferociously. "One of the conditions of you attending the club tonight was that you stay with Carl - or at least in his line of sight. You'd better come with me,  _right now,_  Davis. No dilly-dallying. Hiram's waiting - he's watching Carl's performance."

"I don't think I can go back in there," Davis said, shaking his head. "I didn't realize he was going to  _draw blood."_

"No excuses," Leroy said, raising his voice just enough to make Davis move. What could he do but acquiesce? No matter how awful it was going to be, he wasn't going to yell at Leroy. He would just close his eyes, or something.

But he didn't close his eyes. He kept them wide open, for the rest of the evening, and his mouth closed, taking in the astonishing sights and sounds. Carl remained social, moving between groups, answering questions, laughing and talking with people Davis had never met. It was a singularly lonely experience to realize his roommate had another life that didn't involve him.

 _I asked to come tonight,_  he thought, backing into the corner near the refreshment table.  _But Carl was right. I had no idea what I was getting into._

"May I pour you a drink, sir?" he heard a quiet voice offer. Davis turned his head to see the server - and blinked.

"Uh... hi, Mark." He hesitated. "I'm not even sure if I should call you that."

"It's okay right now, sir," Mark said. He was shirtless, wearing a collar and harness, but otherwise looked exactly like the guy who'd presented last week in Davis' Current Events in American Government class. Davis realized he was staring as Mark looked away, blushing. He thought about what Carl had said about Mark having a crush on him.

"You're working for Hiram and Leroy?" Davis asked.

"I have a contract with Leroy and Hiram, yes, sir." Mark held up the bottle of club soda with a questioning eyebrow, and Davis nodded. He poured in some juice and threw in a garnish before handing it to Davis.

"Thanks. And - I'm really not a sir." Davis grinned nervously, taking a sip of the drink.

"Everybody's a sir to me, sir," Mark said gently. "It's part of my training. It's good."

Davis nodded, in a kind of daze, not even sure how to talk to Mark when he was like this. But just as Davis caught Carl walking toward him, he leaned in, and said in desperate urgency, "It's  _good?"_

Mark's face split in a breathtaking, blissful smile. "Oh, yeah," he breathed. "God, it's  _so_  good."

Davis just shook his head as Carl took his arm and led him away.

"You're ready to go home," he said. Davis nodded, and Carl sighed. "Yeah. That wasn't really a question, but... yeah. I'll get Hiram to bring the car around."

Carl didn't ask him any questions or talk to him on the way home, which was just as well, because he wasn't sure he had any coherent sentences to offer. Davis went through the motions of getting ready for bed, brushing his teeth and putting on a clean pair of boxers. It wasn't until he was returning from the bathroom that he passed Carl's bedroom.

"Come in for a moment," Carl said. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, and patted the space next to him. Carl paused in the doorway.

"That girl," Davis said. "The one you were... whipping. Those cuts." He watched Carl's expression for any sign of remorse, of apology. There was none. He shook his head, feeling his face tighten in near anguish. "She was in  _pain."_

"Yeah," Carl agreed. "She was. But it was what she wanted. Some might say it was what she needed. Certainly she knew what would happen, and she agreed to it ahead of time. There was no point at which she could not have halted the demo and told me to stop. And..." Carl gave him a patient smile. "Knowing Penny, she probably came at least once from the pain alone."

Davis heard a noise come out of his mouth that didn't sound like anything he'd ever made before. It wasn't quite a whimper, and it wasn't quite a moan, but he managed to cut himself off before it went too far. Then Carl was beside him, holding his arm, helping him to sit down. He realized he was dizzy.

"Don't judge her for it," Carl said. "Or me, or... or Mark, or any of us. We might have specifically unusual kinks, but we know ourselves, and we make the environment safe for everyone involved. It's not the end of the world."

 _It might be the end of mine,_  Davis wanted to say, but he just shook his head, staring at his hands in his lap. He felt Carl's hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting.

"You've been really... nice, this whole summer," Davis mumbled. "You didn't have to be. I know I don't fit in with your social group, and I freak out every time something new happens, and... and I'm just sorry to drag you down."

"Davis," Carl said, sounding genuinely surprised. "No. No, no... that's not how it is at all. Listen to me." He took Davis' shoulders and held him steady, looking into his eyes. "You're as much a part of all of this as Leroy and Hiram are.  _You're_ my roommate. You're my friend. I'm not doing anything here because I feel like I have to. I care about you." He smiled, broad and sincere. "All of this... everything I do, it's a little surprising. More than a little, probably. You're getting used to all of it, a little at a time. You have to give yourself time. That's normal, and healthy, and you're doing everything exactly right."

Davis heard those words, and it was like the fog had instantly lifted off of him, and he could see - everything. Everything was clear. "Really?" he said breathlessly. "I am?"

"Really," Carl promised. "I'll be here, right here, all night, if you find yourself waking up with fears or questions or anything else. Don't hesitate to come and get me. All right?"

"Okay," Davis agreed. "Thanks, Carl." And he went to bed, feeling much more peaceful and willing to put the images in his head to rest.

When he did wake up, though, there was no way he would have gone to Carl. Not in the state in which he found himself; not with the dream of himself shackled to the great big frame fresh in his mind. This night, it didn't matter that Carl was just next door, on the other side of one thin wall. He couldn't resist giving in to his own overwhelming desires, or keep himself from gasping Carl's name as he came.

* * *

September 1994 (following KW#19, Handcuffs)

Davis called Carl on the way home from his Congressional policies class to see if he wanted him to pick up dinner, but there was no answer. He decided it was safest to get Chinese and keep it for leftovers if Carl had something else planned.

The house looked dark when he got home, though, and he had to turn on the porch light just to keep from tripping over their bicycles.

"Carl?" he called - quietly, remembering all those times he'd interrupted Carl in some activity or another. There wasn't a reply. He considered leaving the Chinese on the counter and heading back to the library.

Then he sighed.  _This is my house, too. Whatever Carl's doing upstairs, I can probably handle it._  They were lovers, now, after all. Carl hadn't brought home anyone, girl, boy or table, since they'd started spending nights together in Carl's bed. Not that Davis had asked him for exclusivity of any kind. He wasn't even sure if he wanted that. But, even so, he braced himself for what he might find as he slowly climbed the stairs and knocked on Carl's closed door.

"Uh - hang on a second," Carl called, sounding startled. There was a muffled curse.

"I can come back later," Davis offered, but Carl opened the door. He looked sheepish.

"No, you can come in. I'm not ready, but... you caught me."

Davis peered into the darkened room. There were flickering lights from candles on various surfaces. A pair of padded cuffs were laid out on the pillow, and the tiedowns fastened to the corners of the bed frame were in plain view. His breath quickened.

"What's going on tonight?" Davis asked.

Carl sighed. "It's just me, being a little ridiculous. I thought you might like something special for your birthday."

"Oh!" Davis grinned. He leaned over and gave Carl an awkward kiss. Things were still new enough between them that he felt self-conscious doing it. "How'd you know it was my -"

"Bebe told me. I didn't even have to work an angle to get her to spill it; I just gave her an opportunity to complain. Apparently you're very hard to buy for."

"Yeah, she's always bought me terrible presents." Davis touched the sheets, not satin, but something feather-light and incredibly soft on his skin. "But this... this is an awesome present."

"You didn't even see what I got you." Carl hesitated, then pulled a long, slender box out from under the bed. He handed it to Davis. "Please... be honest. If you hate it, tell me, okay?"

Davis lifted the lid off the box and looked inside. He sat down suddenly on the edge of the bed. "Oh."

Carl waited in silence while Davis withdrew the steel-tipped flogger from the box. He held it in his hand, weighing it. It was beautifully made, and seemed to be of the highest quality leather - not that he knew how to determine quality in an implement of torture. He didn't know what he was looking for, at all.

He thought about freaking out, about dropping the flogger there on the bed, and bolting out of the room, returning to his safe world of history and economics. Then he looked at Carl, at his roommate, his friend, his lover, and thought about how he'd taken such good care of him this summer, all the things Carl had introduced him to. He realized he trusted him more than he trusted... anyone, really.

Davis turned the handle of the flogger around and handed it back to Carl. "You bought this for me?" he asked softly. Carl nodded. Davis took a deep breath. "Well, then... I guess you'd better try it out."

Carl took a step forward. "Are you sure? Because if this is just for me, we really don't have to, honestly."

"No, I..." Davis looked at the floor, then back into Carl's eyes. "I'm ready now."

* * *

"I still think we should wait to hear from Carl before going inside a  _dark house,_ " said Leroy, frowning at the door.

"Why did he leave on the porch light, then?" Hiram said. He reached under the mat and got the spare key. "Come on. Mark, you go upstairs. I'll check in the back."

"Yes, sir," said Mark, climbing the stairs two at a time. But he returned quick enough, an anxious look on his face. "Pretty sure Carl's upstairs, but he's got a client. I could hear the sounds of flogging."

Hiram exchanged a concerned look with Leroy. "He's going to be home any minute from class. This is the last thing Davis needs to deal with on his birthday."

"I'll talk to Carl," Leroy sighed. He headed upstairs and knocked twice on the door before announcing, "It's me," and going in. He didn't stay long.

"Did you talk to him?" Hiram asked absently, looking in the bag of Chinese take-out on the table. He looked up and caught Leroy's faint smile. "What is it?"

"I think we can safely say Carl has Davis tied up for the evening," said Leroy. "But make sure your phone is charged, okay, Hiram? He's going to want to talk to someone later."


End file.
